Tag Archives: humorous signs

Confusing Animals

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Signs referring to nonhuman animals have occupied my mind this week, setting me on a hamster wheel of confusing possibilities. Clarity, O Clarity, where art thou? Not here:

A few questions: How does one decide whether a Chicken is Smart? Is managing to stay whole enough? Or does a Chicken have to prove its intelligence by refusing to eat artificial ingredients, thereby achieving organic status?

More confusion:

How many PETS actually spend time COOKING BICYCLES? Have those Smart Chickens created a recipe for roasted or braised handlebars? Do they use organic ingredients?

This sign prompts another question:

Can a dog read well enough to follow instructions explaining how to wash itself? Somehow I thought instinct alone would be sufficient.

Last but not least:

This sign seems a bit sexist. I mean, where are male deer supposed to park? And how exactly does the tow-truck driver decide whether VEHICLES belong to a DOE or a stag? Antler gashes on the dashboard? Perhaps the Department of Education will explain the identification process.

I’ll end this post with one clear message and one shameless plug. Message: Be kind to animals, human or not. Plug: If clarity is your goal, check out my online course, “How to Explain Anything,” which will take place on August 19th from 1:00 — 4:00 EDT (10:00 — 1:00 PDT). Enroll at www.hugohouse.org.

Hy-phen

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I couldn’t resist inserting a hyphen where it doesn’t belong, “hyphen” being, well, un-hyphenated in proper English. I hope the title balances the scales a bit, because so often hyphens are omitted where they’re sorely needed. In this sign, for instance:

Okay, I admit I’m taking this one personally. My name is Woods, and I do have a kitchen. I also have a “specialty” (grammar), but except when I’m trying to follow a poorly written recipe, my “specialty” and “cooking” don’t intersect. Hence the need for a hyphen. If I’m “Specialty-Cooking Woods,” I’m frying a predicate nominative or baking an adjective with, perhaps, an adverbial sauce. If the hyphen slides to the right, this company delivers “Specialty Cooking-Woods.” I prefer to think of those products as cedar, oak, or something similar, though if the owners pay me enough, I’ll make dinner. My specialty is “Clean-Out-the-Refrigerator Soup.”

Before I leave this sign, I should address “Gourmet Hardwood Charcoal.” A “gourmet,” the dictionary tells me, is “a connoisseur of delicacies.” Thus this sign evokes foodies chowing down on “hardwood charcoal.” This is not a hyphen problem. It’s a dental, or perhaps a “Don’t you have anything better to do?” problem. Next up, employment:

Leaving aside the “team” issue (though customers are often treated as the competition), I’m choosing to focus on “Part Sales Mate.” Huh? If the position is “part-sales,” what’s the other part? Or is the job selling a “part”? And what’s with the “mate”? Are the owners seeking a “part-mate”? Part-mate, part-something else? I’m leaving this one in the “life’s too short to worry about stuff like this” bin.

Last, for today at least, as hyphen-problems reappear as often as villains in superhero films:

Two townhouses? Two compounds, each with two buildings? And in a “double garden,” do the veggies and flowers appears in pairs?

That’s it for today. I off in search of a garden, single or double, with or without gourmet woods.

Individual, or Strip?

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Really, it’s not a choice I have ever made or ever plan to make. But apparently some people do need to decide between “Individual, or Strip.” My question, in addition to why there’s a comma before “or,” concerns how an “Eyelash Application” decision is made:

On second thought, I don’t really want to know. I’d rather ponder still another eyelash dilemma:

So, a single eyelash walks into a bar . . . and gets 50% off? Or is the “first Eyelash” 50% off and all the others offered at the regular, or even double-the-regular price? (Sidepoint: Why capitalize “Eyelash”?) The whole thing sounds like a math problem to me: Calculate how much it will cost to have all your eyelashes visit. The answer may depend on whether you want your “first Eyelash visit” to be “Individual, or Strip.”

One last outrage of English, courtesy of my friend Ellie:

Nicotine-puffers can read this notice in columns (“No Safety / Smoking First”) and nonpuffers line by line (“No Smoking / Safety First”). I’m a nonpuffer but also a noncombatant in the “what does it mean?” war. I do wonder whether the letters were applied to the boat “Individual, or Strip.”

Food and Drink

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Can’t do without food and drink, right? But I can certainly do without the silliness that appears permanently attached to them on the signs and menus of New York. This one, for instance:

Which hero are we talking about? Wonder Woman, in a traditionally female role? Batman, grilling in the Bat Cave (a traditionally male role)? Or The Flash, serving super-fast food? Also, how does a burger get “certified”? That last question is apparently a serious issue, as some meat producers object to the term “burger” for anything that doesn’t contain meat. They want to prohibit the term “veggie burger,” for instance, and substitute . . . well, that’s not clear. Maybe patty? disk? puck? The menus of America need a hero to step in and solve this language problem.

Speaking of menus:

I can’t decide whether this restaurant is patting customers on the back for ordering a treat that sounds vaguely nutritious or castigating them for ordering any pastry at all. Also, what’s with the “by”? I’d expect the preposition “from,” reserving “by” for works of art (a painting by Rembrandt, for example). I guess the restaurant wants customers to see these creations as masterpieces. And for all I know (I didn’t order any), they are.

I didn’t take advantage of what this sign offers, either:

At least it’s not “outdoor.” If I were ever tempted to grill myself, I’d prefer a little privacy.

Time to wash down all this food:

These days, it is indeed “special” to encounter honesty, which is reason enough to order and pay for two drinks.

Heatwave Relief

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The air resembles tan soup this morning, as the heatwave in New York City staggers off. I’d be staggering, too, without the comic relief provided by friends who sent me these signs. The first is from Joselia:


I hope the cops are looking to arrest whoever “we” is before the chainsaw comes out.

The next two are from Ellie, who lives in a cooler spot (Canada). Please send a cold front with the next set of photos, Ellie. Here’s the first:

Call me lazy, but the thought of trekking to China from Canada just to save walking up or down some stairs is not appealing. And how is that a convenience for wheelchair users?

Another Ellie-gem:

The original caption for this photo questioned whether there was any way to make sense of the display. The syntax suggests that “whole” is a noun. I’m just hoping it’s not a misspelling of “hole,” in which case the first person to walk on that carpet is going to take a plunge. Another theory: The empty window on the right is a fill-in-the-blank. If that’s correct, I’d be happy to spend $99 to carpet my street and a few adjacent avenues. Much more elegant, and quieter, too.

Ellie shared a photo taken by her friend John, but my computer stubbornly refused to save it. The image showed an empty carton labeled “invisible tape.” Maybe the invisible part explains my computer problem: The photo is there, but no one can see it.

The last is from me, snapped during a recent visit to England:

I’m not sure about the “get sun” part, but otherwise, it’s spot on.

Hopes

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Life dishes out major disappointments all the time. But is it too much to hope that a few little things go according to plan? For example, after a hard day tramping around New York City, all I want is a bit of relief. Instead I’m offered:

 

I don’t need “salts to ache” my feet. I can do that all by myself. I can feed myself, too, but when I’m starving and stop in a restaurant, I want quick service. (There’s a reason “a New York minute” is only a nanosecond long.) Instead I see:

At least the staff warns you that the meal will arrive late. Now if only Amtrak would do the same.  Speaking of Amtrak, I won’t mention their habit of running out of food in the café car on a four-hour ride. Nope. Not a word from me about that. But when I dine in a nonmoving setting, I don’t expect ticketing. In this spot, though . . .

Is it accidental that the sign appears next to a subway station? And yes, I know that the other definition of “fare” is “food.” But what else would you expect a restaurant to offer? Perhaps a properly spelled menu:

 

 

 

 

 

 

The only thing I can say about this dish is that the words on the menu were better than the taste of the “Shepard’s Pie.” This type of  pastry, by the way, is more commonly referred to as “puff pastry.” “Puffed” fits nicely with the price, though.

Amid disappointments, however, life has a way of inserting a happy moment, which is what I experienced when I came across this sign:

 

 

 

 

 

 

Thank you, Church of the Holy Trinity, for restoring my faith in responsible (and humorous) signage.